by J. Saman
He groans, but it’s not in frustration, it’s in resignation. “Fine, turn over.”
I do, but I’m smiling the whole time. “You’re such a boob.”
“A boob?” he laughs and I feel the hard plastic shift beneath me as his large body crawls in next to mine. “Who says shit like that?” He shifts a few more times, trying to lay down and get comfortable while not touching me.
On a bed this size, it’s nearly impossible.
“I say shit like that.”
He’s finally stopped moving, so I turn my body a little to see him. He’s leaning up against the very edge of the bed with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and the blanket covering him from the waist down. If it’s possible, his stiff posture makes him appear even more uncomfortable than he did moments ago on the chair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him softly. The fever mixed with the relative quiet of the dimly lit room seem to be pulling confessions out of me. “And I’m sorry that I let it get worse without seeing a doctor again. I didn’t realize how bad it was until it was too late. I just figured I’d get better on my own.”
He sighs, relaxing his body a little. “I know. I’m sorry I snapped at you about it. You just seem to have a way of making me crazy sometimes.”
That stings in a way I know it shouldn’t.
But it does, and so I fall silent, not really having anything else to say.
“Get some rest,” he says softly and then I feel him shift again so I turn back on my side away from him and try to close my eyes while suppressing the cough I feel struggling to get out.
But even though it’s the middle of the night and I’m exhausted, there is no way I can sleep here. I’ve always been this way.
A sensitive sleeper, my mother designated it.
I’m incapable of sleeping in transit. Cars, airplanes, trains, buses, you name it, I can’t sleep in it.
Aubrey calls it a brain malfunction, but whatever it is, add hospitals to the list because all I hear are the different beeping sounds, doctors and nurses talking, and beds moving around the halls. It’s non-stop noise and even though I’m in a private room, I feel exposed. Add on the fact that the IV is uncomfortable and my chest and body ache because the nurse hasn’t come back with that Tylenol I was promised.
Xander is out in a matter of seconds.
Apparently he has no problems sleeping, because his deep steady breaths cause his back to brush against my bare arm with every inhale.
Is it wrong that I want to snuggle into him? Yes, I know it is, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t. I know he thinks I’m the devil, and that he’s only here because Aubrey would shit a lion if he left me here all alone, but I’m still glad he is.
I learned a long time ago to take what I can get with Xander, even if it comes in small infrequent doses. Nina thinks I’m nuts for even trying. For still caring after all this time. And maybe I am.
But I can’t seem to help it where he’s concerned.
I accepted that a long time ago too.
Xander groans in his sleep and turns over, facing me. His hand snakes around, sliding under the thin johnny and resting on my bare stomach. I freeze, waiting for him to wake up and move away in a fit of anger and panic.
But he doesn’t move.
He just continues to sleep as soundly as he was moments ago. And even though I know it’s wrong and that I should push him away, I relax into him and enjoy his touch on my body surrounded in his protective embrace.
“He really shouldn’t be in bed with you,” Nurse Catherine whispers as she comes into my room carrying a small bag filled with a clear fluid and a syringe. Her face is one of censure as she makes a tsking sound, shaking her head like my great aunt Sally does.
Does this chick know that she’s only in her twenties?
“I know,” I plead with my eyes, because I really don’t want to have to wake him and make him move. “He’s really tired and I want him to get some sleep.” She purses her lips to one side. “Please,” I draw out the word softly.
“Fine,” she huffs out. “This is an antibiotic.” She holds up the small clear bag. “Dr. Friedman said your x-ray shows pneumonia, so we’re going to start you on this in your IV and then if you’re better in a little while, we’ll discharge you home with pills, but only if your fever breaks.”
I smile, because even though the concept of having pneumonia seems bad, she’s giving me medication to make it go away. After three weeks of feeling miserable, it’s like the light at the end of the tunnel.
“I’m also going to give you some Tylenol in your IV. Normally we’d use pills, but you didn’t respond well to the oral Ibuprofen you took, so Dr. Friedman thought this would be more effective.”
She wipes a small plastic piece of the tubing that leads into my IV with an alcohol wipe. Hooking up the syringe to the plastic piece, she begins to depress the plunger, sending the medicine into my system.
“Thank you. The idea of finally feeling better is overwhelming.” I lean my head back against the pillow.
“I’m just glad you didn’t wait much longer. Your boyfriend was right to bring you in. You’re a very sick girl and it’s not something that should have been put off.”
Jeez, I’m getting it on both ends now.
“I know, and believe me, I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Well, you get some rest now too.” She hooks up the smaller bag, hanging it higher on the pole than the larger one of the plain fluids. “This will take a couple of hours to run through.” With a warm smile, she spins around and leaves me here to try and get some sleep.
Xander’s hand is still pressed firmly against my stomach and I don’t want to move for fear of waking him, but I’m uncomfortable in this position and I need to move. Ever so carefully, I reach down, pulling on the stupid gown that is bunched up under my arm and tug it down.
Then I still, making sure I didn’t wake him.
Slowly, I lean myself back again and find a comfortable spot.
Just as I’m closing my eyes, his grip on me tightens, sliding up my stomach to the edge of my ribs. My eyes fly back open, wide as can be, fearing the worst.
“Abby,” he mumbles.
“Yes?” I whisper cautiously. But he doesn’t answer me. He’s still asleep.
And he said my name.
The warmth that spreads through me has nothing to do with my fever, but everything to do with the idea that he’s dreaming about me. I know I’m deluding myself and probably should pay a visit to the psych department for even feeling that way. I’m sure it’s simply the fact that I’m pressed up against him and that we’re in a hospital together.
But that doesn’t mean that my heart doesn’t hope.
And hope is the most dangerous drug in the world.
As I said before, I like Brandon. We have a lot of fun together, but that’s where it ends for me.
Xander and I were so close our freshman year.
As close as he is with Aubrey, but we were different. Always different with each other. We flirted and touched and laughed, and spent all of our time together that we could spare. We even hid that from Aubrey on an occasion or two because he was starting to ask questions and making his displeasure at the idea of us as a couple known.
That was, in my opinion, why Xander never tried anything with me. Why on the two instances where we almost kissed, he stopped it. Not me. I would have and told Aubrey to go fuck himself. But Xander is loyal, almost to a fault. And I knew in the back of my mind that he’d never risk his friendship with Aubrey for me.
That certainly didn’t mean that I didn’t want him.
It also didn’t mean that he didn’t want me back just as much. Because I know he did. Our connection was off the charts, as were the feelings that manifested themselves in such a short time.
But then one day, literally overnight, something changed.
He stopped looking me in the eyes. Stopped talking to me and seeking me out. Stopped laughing and jo
king and hanging out. Stopped everything.
And then a new norm came into being. Cutting remarks and biting comments at my expense became his standard approach to me. And that was if I could get him to acknowledge me at all, which was rare.
He went from being my everything to being my nothing, and I never knew why.
I was never able to get him alone long enough to ask and any time I ever tried, he’d slice into me so deep that it would take me days to recover. Nothing ever changed or improved or evolved.
We stayed the same.
Familiar strangers.
So instead, I adapted. I continued to be friendly and sweet and pretend like his words didn’t sear the flesh from my bones and shatter my heart into a million pieces. I dated other men, made other friends, and I moved forward.
But never on.
I was never able to fully move on.
Nina says it’s because we never had closure. That I’m left with a gaping hole that has only been covered with a Band-Aid, but hasn’t ever healed, because Xander never cared to stitch me up. Nina’s right to a degree. I’m holding on, waiting for the explanation I was never afforded. Hoping one day that will change and either I can move on finally, or we can start again.
Xander’s constant steady breathing finally managed to lull me to sleep, because the next thing I know, a jarring ringing sound that is startlingly close, causes my eyes to fly open.
Right into the wide blue ones of Xander, who’s face is mere inches from mine.
So close that if I licked my lips, he could feel the moisture on them.
So close that our noses are practically kissing.
The ringing is coming from his pocket, that I feel vibrating into me. As I register this, I also register the fact that his arm is wrapped around my body, pressing me to him.
“Shit,” he hisses, pulling back and grabbing his phone from his pocket. His eyes cinch shut with regret as he sightlessly answers his phone.
“Yeah?”
I can tell it’s Aubrey by the sound of the disembodied voice coming through the speaker of his phone.
“Wow, that’s awesome, man,” Xander says in response to something Aubrey said. “Hey . . .” And then I grab his arm, jostling it slightly to get his attention as I frantically shake my head. I don’t want him to tell Aubrey and I know that’s what he’s about to do. Xander stares at me as he opens his mouth to speak, “No. I’m not sleeping. I’m with Abby right now.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I hear Aubrey shout in an accusing tone and Xander shuts his eyes once more with a resigned remorseful look. I hate that look. I hate that Aubrey can do that so easily. I hate that Xander looks like he feels guilty.
“We’re in the hospital, you dick. She has pneumonia.”
Aubrey says something and then Xander shoves the phone in my face.
“What time is it?” I ask in a raspy voice, as I try to sit up. My head feels clear and my body no longer aches. I lean back against the bed, bringing my knees up to my chest.
“It’s four in the morning. Your brother is on the phone,” Xander snaps at me in case I suddenly went deaf and somehow missed that piece of information. He’s really not happy with me right now, and I wonder if it’s because of the way he woke up with his arms around me.
Shit.
I grab the phone that’s still in his outstretched hand, bringing it up to my ear. “Hey, Aub.”
“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Abby. You have pneumonia!”
He’s drunk. And he’s yelling. And though my head may be feeling better, it’s not that much better.
I pull the phone away from my ear a little. “Aubrey, please stop shouting.”
“Stop shouting?” he shouts. “I’m so angry with you right now. I don’t know what I would do if Xander wasn’t there to help take care of you.”
I sigh, leaning my head back onto the pillow and turning it to see Xander, who is now sitting back in the chair next to the bed with a smug smirk on his face. He’s enjoying my getting bitched out a little too much.
“I’m fine. I’m in the hospital and they’re giving me medicine.” Then something occurs to me. “Shit, Aubrey, you’re not going to call Mom and Dad are you?”
“No. I’m not stupid. Mom would make you come home and never let you return to school if I did that.”
In case you cannot tell, I’m babied by my family. That’s what happens when you suffer a traumatic brain injury as a child. I have no residual effects from it. I’m lucky. I was hit by a car on my bike when I was eleven, and the helmet I was wearing saved my life. But I still spent one week in a medically induced coma. So, I can’t really blame them for being a bit overprotective, now can I?
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. There is no point. They are giving me medicine and I already feel much better.” That’s only a half a lie. I do feel better, but at this point, anything is an improvement. “I’m going to rest up and order takeout, and by the time you come home on Saturday,” I emphasize, “I’ll be all better. I promise.”
Aubrey sighs. “I don’t like it, Abby.”
“I know, but I’m a big girl and I’m telling you I’m fine. I really don’t want you to ruin your trip. You’ve been looking forward to this all year.” I push myself up so I’m sitting up higher on the bed, bringing the blanket up to my chest with me. I can feel my nipples making an appearance under the thin fabric of the johnny and I don’t want Xander to notice since he already hates me something awful right now.
“I’m calling you later when I wake up. If you don’t pick up your phone, I’m getting Nina on your ass, maybe even Grace.”
I roll my eyes at that because though Nina and Grace are fierce, they’re not nearly as bad as Aubrey. In fact, they think he needs to chill the hell out with all of this overprotective stuff. But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I say, “You got it.”
“Good. I love you, Abs. Put Xander back on the phone.”
“I love you too.” I smile big because even though he’s an overbearing monster, I really freaking do. “Here.” I pull the phone away from my ear and hand it to a very disheveled and seemingly uptight Xander. His dark hair is sticking up all over the place, his black long sleeved tee is wrinkled, and he even has an indentation from the bed across his right cheek.
I can’t help but smile at that.
“Yeah?” he says evenly into the phone as he sits back down into that miserable plastic chair. “I will. Later.” Xander presses the end button and then slides the phone back into his pocket.
“He’s pissed at me.”
“He is. And he’d kill me if he knew what I did last night.” His voice has zero emotion in it now, despite the sick look in his eyes and the frantic hand running through his hair.
I shrug, not really knowing what else to say.
“I’m going for a walk.” And then he stands up before pausing. “Are you feeling better?”
I don’t answer.
“Do you need anything?”
I shake my head and he leaves me all alone without another word.
CHAPTER 21
I’M DISCHARGED TWO HOURS LATER with a prescription for an antibiotic, and an inhaler if I’m feeling any shortness of breath. They wanted to admit me, but I begged and pleaded and the discharging doctor—who was not Dr. Friedman—relented.
Dr. Friedman ended up giving me his cell phone number with instructions to call him should I need anything. It was a nice thing to do, I guess.
“Are you going to call your latest admirer?” Xander asks as he helps me into the car, pointing at the doctor’s card in my hand.
I snort, throwing him a dubious look. “He was just being nice. He’s my doctor and I refused to be admitted, so he probably just wants to make sure I’m not going to die at home and then sue him.”
“He was hitting on you.”
“He was not.” I roll my eyes. “There is no way he was interested in me.”
“And you have
Brandon,” he says acerbically.
“Would you rather I not?” I have no idea why I just asked him that.
He looks at me long and hard before he gives an indifferent shrug.
It’s not like I expected a real answer anyway.
My cell phone rings at exactly eight in the morning just as I’m walking back into my bedroom. It took forever to get out of the hospital and then to get my medications. Xander didn’t say another word to me after I asked him about Brandon, nor did he complain about having to drive me to the pharmacy, so I’ll take what I can get.
As always.
“Hey,” Brandon’s warm voice fills my ears as I crawl into my bed. My fever broke over night, but Catherine said that was from the Tylenol and that it might return until more of the antibiotic is in my system. I think she was right about that since I’m starting to get chills and body aches again.
“Hi.”
“How’s my girl feeling?” he asks with concern.
“Better.” God, I really don’t want to go into this now. Especially when I feel like the biggest devil traitor of a girlfriend to him. “I, uh . . .” I lay flat on my back staring up at my ceiling. I have to tell him where I was and what happened. “I was in the emergency room last night.”
“What?” he asks, his voice elevating.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I preface. “I was getting worse and Xander took me in around ten. I have pneumonia, so they gave me some medicine and I’m starting to feel better,” I finish quickly.
“Are you kidding me? Pneumonia? Shit, Abby, I should never have left.”
I laugh, but it hurts my head and I end up wincing instead. “You sound like Aubrey. I’m doing much better now, really.” Lies, all lies.
“I’m coming back today,” he says firmly.
“No, you’re not. You’re staying there with your brother. I have medicine and takeout and movies I can watch that you’d hate.” He laughs a little, which I take as a good sign. “Seriously, I’d feel terrible for you to come back early and miss that time with him.”
He’s silent for a beat and I bite my lip, hoping that he decides to listen to me and not fly back to play the hero. It’s sweet that he wants to do that, but I don’t want to be coddled and I don’t want to ruin his break with his brother whom he rarely sees.